


Bright Red Blood

by YourTipicalGeek



Series: WHY DO I KEEP WRITING NEW STORIES?! [6]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Obsessed With Not Dying, Because Japanese Sounds That Way, But He Gets Better, Continuity What Continuity, Define Better, Edward Elric Swears, Evil Tom Riddle, Gen, He's Just Creepy, Philosopher's Stone, Sane Tom Riddle, The Manga Threw It Away, Tom Calls Him "Eduardo", Tom Is Not A Pedophile, Until He Is Reborn, Where Did Pride's Souls Go?, but only at the end, i don't make the rules, kidnapped edward elric, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2020-10-13 09:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20580242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourTipicalGeek/pseuds/YourTipicalGeek
Summary: It makes sense how their Lord only allows the few that can be called close to him into his manor.He is a man of power and who stands against the law.That reason makes sense.The only problem is Him.





	1. Blooming Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Beware, I use a LOT of spacing and paragraphs.
> 
> And English is not my first language (RIP)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just found out that you can't see the glitches on the phone version

One day,

the buds C̸̟̙͚̆͊̕͜ ̵̠̤͒̈́A̵̙̙̭̒̾̋ ̵͎̙̟͐ M̷̨̘̟͍̄̚͝ ̴͚̲̜̓̇̅ E̸͇̭͝ ̸̡͉͊͛̀ ̷̖͂ B̷͚̬̕ ̴͎͠ A̸̫̕ ̷͖̗͛͌ C̶̠͛ ̸̢̓͘K̷̻̺̙̮̄.

Dried and shriveled, and barely there.

But still **T̶̢̛̛͉̩̥̪͙̠̪̝̬̯̤̠͓̹̜̱͇̼̹̙̩̦̀̏̑̄̈̉͐̉̔̈̽͐̌͒̈͌͊̾͛̓́͐̔̇͋͒͆̓̒̓̓͗̍́͒̒͊́̾̾̈́̀̚̕̕̕̚͜͠͝͠ **

** ̵̨̡̙̟̦̙̻̪̳̼̟̦̞͚͚̰̞͕͓͔͍͓̻͈̞̰͇̼͒̉͆͐̀͊̈́̂͋͗̏̑͌̊͆̔͋̏̃͋͒̂̓̏̂͋͆͋̈́̓̈́̄͌̍̌̎̄̀͆́̿͆̍͐̆̇̉̿͑͊̌̌͛̂͗̓̄̈̏̐͑̾̔͛͐͗͆̈͘͘̚͜͜͝͝͠͠ Ḩ̶̡̛̞̰̙̟̖̗̣̟͇̲̉͊͒̎͌͆̋͆̄̓̿̏́͆̈́͒̍͋̔̓̆̅̋͂͌̈́͂͂͐͋͛̾̉̀̑̈́͊̑͒̆̍̄̿̍̊̌̔̈͂͑̚̕͘̕̕͘͜͝͝ ̵̧̧̨̡̛̰͓̘̺͉̠͓̮͓̲̪̖͎͇̘̗͙̪̩̩͙̫̗̱͉̯̣̘͙̲͈͔̱̰͕̫̭̱̮̼̮̩̗̮̹̮͇͎͓̘̲̣̮̙̞̘̘̳̟̠̫͖̮̝̳͆͑̊͑͋́̏̊̌̃̾̏͊͆͌̋̌͝͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅ Ẻ̷̢̨̨͔̹̮̙̘̦͇͇̘͕̺̹̼̲̇̓̄̄͐̔̋̄̃̀̍͂͆̈́̂̂̽̈́͛̚͜͜͝ **

** Ȩ̸̡̢̛̜̝͍̯͙̫̺̘̺̲̠̟̳̘̹͎̲̹̖̖̼͙̻͚͍͎̭̼̫̟̈́̂̃̌̀̔͗̈́̑̓̿͐̌̀̑̓̓̌̌̃̆̔̏̔̎̈́̄̎̍̍̽̅̍͛̆̐̇̉̈͗̅̿̋͛̾͋̈́̓͆̏͗̍̉͛͛̃͘͝͠͝͝ ̸̧̧̡̨̧̨̢̧̨̛̫̪̤̰͕̼̤͇̳̠͖̣͖̗̻̦̞̠̦͎̹̗͖̱̰̜̜̗̗̩͎͍͙̮̭̪͕̤͍̦̤͉͇̮̼̟̭̗͍̺͔͇̫̙̲͙̬̻͈̩͙̩̲͖͍̤́̿̾̆̐̂̉̃̐̒͐̌͐̓̿͐͛̅͌̅̌̏͗̀͌̓̈̃̊́̀̅̉̆̀͆̂͒̈́̍̒͂̚͘͘̚͘̕͠͝ R̸̡̧̨̧̧̢̡̨̙̜͉̙̹̭̪̱̗͎̯̜̲͍͙̩̤͙̠͖̤̻̪̦͇̺̘̠̭̟͙͙̥͇̹̹̲̯̲̜̠̠̘͉̲̝̹̻͖̪̲̯̯̭̠͉͔̦͈̭͔̳͆̓͒̿̄͊̈̈́̏͛͑̈̀̃̅̾̓͗̇͛̄͑̎̒̿̒̓͂̊̑̒͊̓̈́̃̽͒̋̂̊͆̍͊̈́̚͘͜͜͠͠ͅ ̴̧̡̯͖͉͖̝̥̣̺͍͉̘͉͇̳͙̪̟͚̜̣̪̠̫̟̩̬͇̘̜̬̤͍̻͖̰̝̗̖͉͙̖͖͙̮͓̰͚̤̲̯̜̝̠̮̺̔͊̎́͆̏̈́́̋͘͜ͅͅ**

nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second glitch says "THERE"


	2. Him. (or, That one time Edward Elric got punished because he almost killed a Racist Pig)

The Boy's name as an unknown.

And though some had dared to ask, the answers they received never seemed to match, He found their need to know far too funny to tell anyone the truth.

A mystery their Lord kept away with lock, key, a thousand different wards, and hid at the very bottom of the sea; where no one could hope to find, much less know.

He was the Dark Lord's most heavily guarded prisoner, and even then, prisoner was a difficult word to describe him (_golden hair walking the halls they only dared to imagine)_. Only a few were allowed to know of his existence, and of these few, only a handful had managed to look at Him properly. 

He had been there since the beginning ("-_though, not the very beginning, mind you, that was _us_, his most loyal."),_ only his oldest followers could remember a time when there was no **Him**.

Arabraxas had told Lucius that '_He wasn't that important_' the very same day that he had managed to catch a glimpse of eyes that belonged to one who could only wish you harm. Arabraxas had never talked about Him with his son before that incident; to say that it was forbidden to know before seeing was an understatement, he knew better than to try, <strike>_the last one was never found_</strike>.

Hearing **Him** speak, on the other hand, was a different matter altogether.

He was Loud.

'_Disgustingly so_' Lucretia would sneer.

But their Lord would act like nothing was wrong, so it was never brought up.

After all, if their Lord wanted to keep a pet ("_-and such a pretty one!" Bellatrix would coo.)_ who were they to speak about their master's matters.


	3. The Mistakes of the Few Cost the Lives of the Many (or, The Waking of The Big Bad Wolf)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> used 2 frases from the movie in this chapter because I "lost" 3 of my harry potter books.

(_"Goodness, what great eyes you have!")_

Red eyes and pale skin.

_("The better to see you with." the wolf told her)_

"But no matter, no matter..."

Inhuman nose and bare feet.

(_"What a deep voice you have!"_)

A monster.

"_Things have **changed**._"

(_"The better to greet you with", responds the wolf_)

A nightmare in two legs staring him down, snakelike and deadly. 

Rough ropes that held him against cold stone.

Cold headstones. Cold grass beneath his legs. Cold air against his face. Cold eyes resting on him. Cold eyes all around him. Cold-

_COLDcOLDcO**Ld**_

Harry really didn't want to be here.

Harry didn't want to enter this tournament.

He didn't want to look at the corpse<strike>oh gOD WHY</strike> that rested just a few feet away <strike>CedricNO!please,</strike> a cry was stuck in his chest.

Red eyes and a dozen masks (a dozen? six? seven? <strike>does iT EVEN MATTER?! **_CEDRIC IS DEAD!_**</strike>). He was surrounded and about to die.

Helpless.

And suddenly those dozens of eyes weren't on him anymore.

One of the Death Eaters had broken line.

Out of order.

Out of formation.

Wand raised and before the others could stop him, a curse was sent flying to Voldemort's back. Dark blue and far too fast.

Of course, fate has long been decided.

Voldemort was not meant to die tonight.

No man could react to the foolish one's betrayal; specially not Voldemort himself, who had laid all his attention on the insolent child before him (_The one that got away <strike>twice</strike> and who managed to evade his timely death_).

Still.

Nagini was no man.

But, neither was she perfect.

She did reach him.

Just not in time to stop the spell completely.

The curse reached it's target.

Harry couldn't help but hope.

_Please._ Please.please._ Please. Please. pleasepleasepleaseplease._

_Please be dead._

...but it simple went askew.

A man a little too distracted (too surprised by the snake that managed to get him)

A spell a little too weak (_hewasbackhewasbackhe _**WAS BACK**)

A touch too to the side (bones crushed under the maws of the deadly creature).

A spell that was simply meant to fail.

Harry felt his lungs went missing, all air was suddenly gone and the world felt hazy. He watched as Voldemort was stumbling forward from the force of the curse, his feet stuttered and crossed, eyes wider than normal from the (<strike>fear?</strike>) shock. His left side was bowed and hunched, turned to his right side; his left (the uninjured) hand was hovering over his side and the right one didn't seem to know what to do.

Ha.

The face that had stretched from the wide eyes and open mouth shrank in a beat. His brow flew downwards, his <strike>bloody red</strike> eyes widened even more, and yet they seemed to have disappeared under the cheekbones that were raised from the vicious snarl that made him look demonic. Like one of the monsters that appeared on Dudley's cartoons. Tiny red pupils that were drowned under the whites of long snake eyes and a huge mouth ready to eat the foolish hero that stood on it's path.

Huge teeth made way to a wide mouth (_"What a big mouth you have!" little red exclaimed_) and a great wolf's roar sprang from his throat, deep and dark, filled of pain and hate.

One of the Death Eaters tried to get near, but was pulled back by the back of his hood. The rest swayed in their places, most of them retreated a few steps back, while others clutched to each other like school girls squealing about their first love. Their hands clutched at their cloaks and the hands of others. Harry's own hands sunk into the grass beneath him, plucking them like daises, earth that was stained with the dead was buried under his nails, and his knees and toes curled inwards, trying to make himself smaller. His face had unconsciously copied a similar expression as the one before him, wide eyes and wider mouth, too many teeth and his back pressed itself against the cold stone he was tied against.

_Sweat fell from his back even though he felt like he was freezing._

Then the scream had changed into something worse.

It was brief, but Harry felt as if the demon in front of him would swallow him up.

The Death Eaters backed up even more, trembling under their robes, white masks never left the sight before them ("_loud sounds will make it aggressive, and sudden movements will cause it to attack, so never turn your back to it"_). 

The wild thing before them was laughing.

_And what a wicked thing it was._

It was like watching the devil discover that instead of feeling pain on its own it could simply torture the foolish mortals, who always though so highly of themselves, as a source for entertainment. 

Hell.

The Beginning of Hell itself is what it felt like.

A crack shook the cemetery.

Harry crashed his skull against the stone from the jump he had given. The Death Eaters had also jumped, a couple had tried to raise their wands against the person who had apparated (The sound was a dead giveaway) and the betrayer almost lost his life under the sudden tightening of Nagini's hold.

The figure had just landed when they fell.

The spectators felt like their souls had just been slapped.

What.

The body laid in front of their Lord.

Half a meter in front of Voldemort himself.

And the poor boy's eyes were still wide from all the screaming and laughing that had been going on.

Now he was staring straight at what was going to turn out to be another death.

<strike>Cedric?</strike>

Long golden hairs and black clothes, that was all he managed to see at first. 

Then, a pair of eyes appeared (it was a stretch to say that they appeared, they were barely visible and there was too much hair in the way to get a proper glimpse), and the person's arms and legs started clawing at the ground in an attempt to stand.

"Accio."

And the blond was pulled back.

Harry's mind (which had probably gone into shock a while ago) thought it was a little funny how similar the image was to one of a puppet dancing while being pulled by his strings.

Voldemort's wand fell to his feet.

His outstretched hand wrapped itself around the person's throat.

"**_Nelegitim!_**" the person roared.

The puppet's strings were cut, and its arms and legs woke up. 

But the monster did not care...

(_"The better to eat you with!" the wolf bellowed_)

...And bit the neck in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment (ಥ﹏ಥ)  
My depression and low self esteem need validation. :')  
And I also love to read comments, even in other people's stories. Like, analysis and predictions are la Créme de la Créme. 
> 
> Lo mejor! Incredible! Fantabuloso!


	4. Enter: That One Character That Got Erased From Chapter 1 (or, A Wild Drunk Lucius Appeared!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever write one thousand words without a draft and then your sister closes all your windows before you can save them? And THEN you write 500 words AND YOU END UP DELETING THEM BY ACCIDENT??!!!!??!?
> 
> ...Like..........................................................................................................................................................................why............................

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just Edited a few things *cough*a lot of things*cough* ¯\\(°_o)/¯ don't get your hopes up, the other one isn't ready

Salomon Pyrites was a bright child.

One of the top 5 scores of his year. A pureblood. Handsome but not too handsome; and though his personality was a tad... (some would call him 'gloomy'), the fact that he was an Unspeakable at a young age was a remarkable feat that made him stand out from the rest.

An exemplary person.

Pyrites simply had................

...a..........

...small flaw.

A very small one.

Almost nonexistent.

Some may even say that it's a virtue that must be explored and allowed to grow and develop.

He was... 

He was curious.

His pursue for knowledge had hounded his very steps ever since he was young.

He had always wanted to know everything.

From the gossip that he managed to snatch from a group of Hufflepuffs about the recent development between Professor Merryweather and her fifth husband, to his Mother's dark spells library.

The world's knowledge was his mistress, and his constant pursue.

He had allied himself to the Dark Lord's cause through a few friends and his family's expectations.

Honestly speaking, he wasn't sold on what the Dark Lord told them was his cause (How come he hadn't heard of a wizard as powerful as his Lord through the pureblood circles before this? On the other hand, the _Dark Lord as a person,_ was a fine specimen that he wouldn't mind watching for a little longer), but he had been allowed to experiment on the left over corpses of the enemy, so all good for him.

Knowledge in exchange for his abilities.

It was the same as the Ministry. 

Anyways,

Moving on...

Salomon had always been a curious being.

So when the opportunity to... explore... his Lord's office presented itself.

Well...

He never said that he was known for having a strong will.

\-------

The third time Pyrites had been summoned into the Lord's mansion (one could say that he wasn't allowed into the mansion itself, since he was simply side-apparated by his Lord directly into his office, but it was an achievement in any Death Eater's books) the Dark Lord was summoned by a house elf for a matter of importance.

Salomon would like to say that he waited a few minutes in order to see if the Dark Lord would return, but his parents raised no liar.

He was... one of those people who would twist the truth in a way that made you think something else happened, but he tried to never lie (<strike>because people could catch your lies, but you can claim misunderstandings for the 'truths'</strike>).

The truth in this case was, that he immediately jumped at the chance to read the walls of books that the Dark Lord kept in his office. 

\-------

The office was a heaven filled with books, three of the four walls were covered top to bottom with books that were only disrupted by the existence of the door that must have led to the rest of the mansion and the lamps that kept the room well lit, the only wall that was different from the rest was the one that his Lord's back was turned to if he was seated on his desk; it was all covered in windows that showed the mansion's gardens.

Gardens that Salomon had no interest in, because... well... Books! And not just any old books! Books that belonged to an intelligent (and powerful) person!

He had started on the section that stood on his left (greens and blues, because the shelves were color coded), deciding to find the most interesting one and leaf through it before the time to look was up.

He was deciding that maybe reading _'artes terris mortui sunt'_ was not worth it over _'mirusiųjų alchemija'_ when he came face to face with a snake.

It was like the world had fallen from his feet and he was now free-falling towards his death.

His Lord had made no secret that he was a descendant of the ancient line of Slytherin. So, the fact that he had left a snake hidden in order to spy on him made him want to cry.

He had yet to touch any of the books! Please spare him!

He still hadn't read a single book.

But he was a member of the pureblood society, born and raised to keep his poker face under the harshest conditions. He was his mother's son, for Merlin's balls[1]!

So, had there been any witnesses to the events that followed, they would have seen this:

Pyrites freezing before a small space between two of the books, not saying anything for a few seconds before continuing to look at the remaining books on the bookshelf. Moving on like nothing had gone wrong. Face unchanging and footsteps controlled.

Unaffected.

Unchanging.

Unruffled by the presence of the other being in the room.

After finishing his brief skimming of that bookshelf, he walked towards his seat, sat, and remained quiet for the rest of his wait.

\-------

Salomon got _VERY drunk_ that night.

\-------

Salomon's relationship with Lucius was an odd one.

They were never close to each other while at Hogwarts and they never really talked to each other while at work.

Things changed the time that they came into contact while both were at their Lord's mansion, but not by much.

Until they had brought information regarding the security of the Forbidden Objects Room 3.

They didn't talk to each other that day, only reported what was due, and left at the sound of the obnoxious yelling that he managed to hear during some of his visits to the mansion (this time the man (teenager? young adult?) was yelling about the disappearance of the book he had been reading), while Asmodeus leading the way towards the next stop.

By the time that they had landed in Manchester, Salomon's curiosity managed to rear it's ugly head once more.

"Do you think his accent was Portuguese?" 

The question had obviously been directed at Asmodeus, he had made sure to turn his body towards the man in question, and with the obvious factor that he and Lucius didn't get along.

"What?" 

The redhead scrunched his nose and reared his head as a sign of confusion that made Salomon want to slap the man's head like an angry gran.

"The yelling man," his own tone flat at the other's idiocy and his left foot almost tripped on the gravel of the garden path towards the apparition point "or do you see another foreigner hollering profanities in the Dark Lord's mansion?"

Asmodeus' face turned from a what-the-bloody-hell-do-you-mean into a more darker stop-playing-games-motherfucker, clearly annoyed with the one he was being partnered for this assignment.

"Pyrites."

Two eyes stared down at the blond behind them, but Malfoy stood his ground, acting like he wasn't being rude by interrupting another's conversation.

"Come visit the Malfoy manor when you can."

And then the man was gone.

"....what...?"

\-------

"It's obviously a spell." The other man said before throwing back the drink on his hand.

Salomon had decided to wait 3 weeks (on purpose) to finally visit Malfoy manor, it had been decided by his spite and wish to fuck with the stuck up blond that looked down on him for having a french halfblood father marry into his mother's family.

(As previously mentioned before, they did _not_ like each other.)

"You can't remember him unless you _see him_." It had taken an entire bottle of italian wine from Saturnalia to loosen the bastard into conversation. 

The brunet felt that was wrong, "But I've never met himmmmm...?" the carpet felt good beneath his bare feet, but the couch made very loud sounds every time he moved.

"Well," the poor fucker's arm looked ready to fall of from the wide ark that he had thrown it into "at leasssst, s'what father says." Salomon started laughing at the dancing ceiling and Malfoy joined him. Both men looked at each other from the couch that they had sprawled in.

He looked down, and his glass was empty.

He was pretty sure that the house elf stole his wine.

What a bitch.

"Like... when you hear him, you can remember him; but not if you're- no- stop-!"

Salomon ignored the hair pulling as he drank the other's glass.

That gave him the idea that maybe he should say something.

"Good ssstufff..." 

He was promptly shushed and the blond's arm fell over his face. Another round of laughter followed this event.

Salomon's hide brain must have had enough because the last thing he remembers is starting to sing a Claire de Lune mashup that sounded more like dying cattle and that one muggle song that was sang by the half siren (the boham one).

\-------

He and Lucius end up becoming drinking-partners-slash-cursed-wannabe-friends.

_("Stop calling me Lucius!" "Please, we both ended sleeping on my kitchen floor that one night with the glowing cocktails, I think I can call you Lucius." And they both pretend that this event has nothing to do with the fact that the prat had confessed being jealous of him because he never got to be marked.)_

\-------

The night of the Dark Lord's return they find themselves together.

_ <strike>waiting</strike> _

Narcissa was sitting by the fireplace while they wait to be called.

<strike> _waiting_ </strike>

They all try to pretend that nothing is wrong, that it's a normal night where Lucius only invited him to brag about his wife all night long, but the fact that they can't bring themselves to talk says it all.

\-------

One of the downsides of being an Unmarked meant that unless he was instructed to help them, or he was told by the person themselves, he only knew a handful of the other Death Eaters.

So he didn't know who was the stupidly brave son of a banshee that decided that killing the Dark Lord was a good idea.

What he did know instead, was the workings of the curse that he had thrown, and how it would inflict death on the receiver.

It was a spell designed on the turn of 16th century by Darclumus Mistogan, who used it on his wars to conquer territory in the south. It was meant so that even if the spell manages to graze the victim, they will still die from the poisonous magic. Darclumus had been so proud of his achievement that he claimed it could even kill a dementor.

Three months later, the poor idiot proceded to die from a dementor's kiss at the age of 37 winters.

The important thing was, that Pyrites had been ready for another thirteen years where the Dark Lord was dead when the _other person_ apparated.

The little beast was screaming up a storm in a few different languages, cursing the heavens and flailing like a mad man about to die. 

[Familiar screams that talked on a foreign accent that Lucius said was German but he had the theory it was from Romania]

Pyrites ended up blinded from the sudden lightning that sprang from the Dark Lord's back; stars replaced his vision, and it took covering his eyes with his hands to start getting used to the light.

_"UPSHUT YOUR ASS, MOTHERBITCH!"_

The cover his hands provided allowed him to distinguish the fact that the lights consisted of two different colors, a bright red that formed streaks of lightning and took over most of his vision, and much weaker flashes of blue that would spring from time to time.

His wand arm pointed straight at the light-show and kept one leg ready, wary and ready to apparate in case something happens.

_"MORȚII MĂ-TII!! I WILL SECRIFICE YOUR EYEBALLS TO GOD!"_

He remembers him.

The yelling child.

_"STOP!!"_

Pyrites felt his heart and stomach fall to his metaphorical knees.

_["He never leaves the house, and he never ages." Abraxas expelled a long sigh "Just like our Lord." _

_Curiosity clawed at his insides and the other unsaid option._

_The one that his Lord was the one that was just like **Him.**]_

_ **"YOU'RE TAKING TOO MUCH!!!"** _

_(He remembers the feelings of confusion at the thought of the Dark Lord dying. The bubbling denial at the mere thought that his immortal overlord had fallen. The man had long ago reached immortality. Never aging a day since the first time he saw him.)_

The graveyard was suddenly darker than before. Bright spots started dancing in front of his eyes as they tried to get used to the lack of lights.

The red lightning was much smaller, to the point that he might not have seen it's light if he had't stopped covering his eyes.

And then that small light was also gone.

Salomon felt like the world had lost all colour. 

Everything was black.

_"Eduardo."_

He crashed into the person that stood to his left, and every single nerve in his body was shaking him by the shoulders and hollering that this was a bad idea. 

**[BeCausE tHe vOICe WaS wrOnG]**

That this was dangerous.

But...

Ah.

His curiosity was like an ugly itch that made him want to speak to the deformed man that used to be so very bright to him.

Because no matter what propaganda the Ministry sprouted, Salomon had seen the sun in the man that started all of this. Had seen him charm the hearts of those that seemed impossible to move. Had stood by his side as he unraveled the secrets of the world. He who walked were no other walked before.

Well...

His mother did always say he was more like his father.

The loud hissing that followed made that curiosity stop on it's tracks. The dark world that had come upon the cemetery was shattered, and when the shining orb appeared a little to his right he felt like the world took his feet and pulled. 

The only thing that you could compare it to was the Ebublio Spell. Its light was a soft blue, and it looked like a starry, transparent sphere somewhere between a glittering cage and tank [2]_._ Suspended midair, trapped inside the orb was a light haired man. 

And the Dark Lord was standing beside it.

The beautiful and dangerous creature that his memories used to call the Dark Lord.

Not the new monstrosity that held onto his name.

......Ah...

...He really needed a drink right now.

Maybe he could finally drag Lucius to that little pub in fifth avenue?

[his curiosity was going wild at the sight of an unknown containment spell]

A tongue was collecting the blood from the Man's lips, and his hands had divided the tasks of clutching his recovered wand (the right one, the hand that he was able to see with clarity) and holding his tattered robe in place. Dark hair that looked black in this poor lighting fell into disarray, and a straight nose carved by the highest of <strike>demons</strike> angels gave Pyrites the urge to kneel before the creature in front of him; the monster and Adonis that even after 13 years still featured in his darkest dreams.

His black robe was ripped at the back (from where the curse managed to graze him), and his bare feet walked with the grace of a king as they took him across the short distance to the cage of light and magic.

His face remained a blank sculpture, and his hands stopped what they were doing to still in place.

No one dared speak.

No one dared breath.

According to the muggle religion [3], the Devil had once been the Lord's most beautiful creation.

_'Fittingly,'_ Pyrites thinks _'they stood beneath their Inmortal King's notice. Like mortals who were but the dirt beneath the most beautiful creature in this world.'_

Salomon wanted to know what the man's back looked after the light-show, but his curiosity wet unfulfilled, for he could only stare at the man's right flank from his position on the semi-circle of Death Eaters.

Two arms raised themselves and the heart rates of the audience.

Eight fingers touched the magical tank, resonating into their hearts at the delicate way they moved.

Pyrites' mind had numbed enough that he didn't flinch at the snap of the poor fool's neck (the betrayer that he had all but forgotten about).

_'At least it had been a quick death'_ the part of his soul that only cared about himself had dismissed. The act had been done with magic that could only belong to his Lord _(who else but him?)_, he clearly didn't even deem the betrayer important enough to use a spell on the man, it had been pure intent and magic.

And Salomon was once again reminded of the beautiful monster that he had long ago fallen in love with for it's power and ruthlessness. <strike>He ignored the giddiness at the fact that the filth didn't get a single word directed at through the entire affair.</strike>

Fingers that were resting, gently extended themselves outwards, light movements that pushed the bubble which contained the thrashing but now silent man to the edge side of the circle.

_he felt like bowing before the man_

A different (but familiar) set of fingers gripped into Pyrites' shoulder so he wouldn't follow his stupid desire to get closer to his Master. [Really, Lucius knew him far too well.]

Shivers wracked his body, and both fear and awe tightened around his soul in a crushing grip when his eyes fell on the bright smile that bloomed from bright pearls and soft lips.

Then the man turned towards the tied up figure of his next victim (<strike>the child</strike>), both teeth and intentions bared for all to see.

"How rude of me to ignore my guests."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] I have this headcanon that most of the curses that Ron says are censoring that his parents would use in the house, and not even the twins had the heart to break it to him that those were not curses and that he and Harry looked ridiculous saying those things. Other people started saying them because the Harry started saying them
> 
> [2] Quote from the Deathly Hallows
> 
> [3] Due to ignorance he thinks there is only one religion
> 
> EDIT:  
Unreliable Narrator...  
-Tom likes to turn Ed into silent or practically silent animals when he's irritated (the snake was Ed) and play with them [if he's too noisy he puts a silencing spell].  
-The entire thing was scarier than what Pyrites describes, he's just too gay to realize that.  
-The rest of the DE are shuffling around or frozen, my man just mauled someone's throat like a rabid dog and there ir blood all over the place.
> 
> Title: Pyrites is a character that was mentioned in the HP book 1 ch 1 rough draft
> 
> Give me comments! I love to discuss all kinds of stuff!  
（╯°□°）╯︵( .o.)


	5. Questions and Realizations (or, Please Leave Harry Alone, He Just Saw Someone Die)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ಠ_ಥ chapter got erased three times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember I lost my book, so I can't remember where Harry told the other two about Voldy (probably hospital wing), so I decided for them to talk it out in a healthy manner (by taking into account the Harry-Ron disaster as a learning experience for all three of them)

"Harry."

Green eyes stared straight at the golden little knick-knacks in front of him, stubborn in their efforts of not staring at any of people in the room.

"Harry." Dumbledore repeats, the disappointment and urgency that coat his words are what make the pain from his chest fall like lead. "What did you see?"

"Well, I suggest that we-" "Severus!"

Harry flinched at the exchange. McGonagall was trying to defend him, to give him more time, but he had seen how she had been tapping her toes against the ground.

They were all tense. First, Voldemort. Then, Mad-Eye wasn't really Mad-Eye. And now, they were all waiting for him to tell them all of the details of the night that he didn't even want to remember.

_Just tell them about the ritual, maybe even that person. That's it. That's all._

He did his best to sort what he was going to say. 

_'Voldemort was some sort of vampire now?' _No. He doesn't think..._ '__The other person might be more important. No... Voldemort was the enemy who wanted all of them to die.'_

_'__Professor, Voldemort can heal-' _(he saw him get hit by the spell, but he didn't even know what the spell did).

His eyes followed the movements around him but he made sure not to look at the teachers' faces.

_"Volde-"_ he was shushed by three different people, and though none of them were as harsh as Snape all of them were aggressive (and Harry felt offence at how the man had leaned down and contorted his face in irritation _[you should get laid Profesor, but good luck finding someone]_).

"_**He-**_" and since Harry was being petty about how _NOW WAS NOT THE TIME TO BE AFRAID OF A STUPID NICKNAME!_ he decided to put as much emphasis in the word, and sort of hissing back to the professors "-is back." And since they made him angry, maybe he should Not tell them about what he saw, and how could they even know! They weren't even there! Take that Snape!

"Harry." The reproachful way Professor Dumbledore used his name was the only reason he kept going.

His hands started pinching the seat between his legs.

"His Death Eaters were there." He looked ahead, staring at the papers on the desk. A thought came. "One of them tried to kill him." Red eyes and wild laugh. Then seemed to catch the professor's attention, for he saw how he placed his elbows on the table, head resting on entwined fingers. "It didn't work." Snape (like the git he is) scoffed at that. "There..."

_'was someone who helped him?'_

And Harry came to a standstill at the idea,_ [s__creams of anger and hands that were trying to free himself <strike>(herself doesn't-, the voice wasn't right for it to be a woman)]</strike>_

<strike>who?</strike>

His nails scratched against the velvet, feet rubbing against each other.

".... I....um... I think he might have..." his words left him and "...vampires?"

This time it was Professor Sprout that let out a choked 'what'.

"He- um..." He made the conscious effort of stilling his feet, the tips rested against the ground, "To um... he was hit by this curse," his hands started moving around "so he bit? ....um, yeah, someone." _[puppet strings and red_ _lights] _

"He bit someone?" Dumbledore prods, and he nods in response.

"Who?"

<strike>who</strike>

He looked at Professor Dumbledore in he eyes for the first time, and felt his gut clench at the lack of twinkle in the other man's eyes.

<strike>...who?</strike>

"I don't know."

Long hair that he could barely see the color of (<strike>so dark it's suffocating</strike>), he thinks it might be blond or light brown. 

He can't remember.

A silver color?

"A... " he tries to calculate "...he sounded..." [a mouth too wide and a corpse left to rot] "...young."

"Young?"

"Yes."

He thinks.

"Like a young adult, probably twenties."

He thinks harder.

"...or a seventh year."

"A seventh year?" The incredulous drawl cuts the conversation short. And Harry relishes on the fact that for once in his school years, he had forgotten all about Snape (for the few seconds it lasted). So to make it up for the interruption, Harry decides to ignore the man.

His eyes follow his own hands as they raise and touch each other (as a sort of prayer) "I didn't really see him" Up and down the hands went.

Up and down.

"He used to look like a snake, but then he didn't."

A hand was slapped on the arm of his chair, his favourite <strike>not</strike> professor was connected to it, making eye contact in a way that conveyed his distaste and impatience.

"Stop mumbling and _speak_." he hissed, and Harry felt his shackles rise at the man's tone of voice.

_"Voldemort-"_ that earned him a hiss, "-looked like a snake when he was resurrected! Bit after he bit the other man-!" he suddenly chocked on his words, the image rose to his mind. "...he didn't." The two were left staring at each other with sudden wariness.

"What did he look like, Harry?" 

So he turned to Dumbledore with a sudden clarity, and said:

"Like... and older version of the Riddle I saw in the diary."

\----

"An older Riddle?"

He nodded at the question, and Mione didn't say anything from her position against his shoulder.

"So... a very hot bloke, then?" A beat. He turned to Ron, who looked offended at the staring. "What? Ginny told me." Hermione threw something at Ron and Harry only gave him a look for his comment. A loud thud rang out from where Ron had hit his head against the wall of the abandoned classroom that they had hid themselves in, and both Hermione and him laughed at the whining redhead.

The laughter was cut short after a few seconds.

He felt Hermione shift on her place and pull all of herself against the corner that she was sitting in. Ron leaned down to pick the thing that she had thrown, and the sounds of crinkling paper left his hands. Harry turned to his right in order to see what it was, and found that the answer was a choco-bonbon. "Chocolate?" 

She, in turn, stared right ahead.

_'For you'_ was the answer he never received but understood.

He pressed himself against her as a for of thanks; and when Ron draped himself over him, Harry let himself relish in a different type of silence than the ones he always found himself surrounded back in Privet Drive.

\----

Lucius felt the horror deep within his bones as the stood in <strike>his office</strike> what used to be his office.

If you asked him what he was the most afraid at the time, his answer wouldn't be the **_two snakes fighting in the middle of his great-grandmother's handmade carpet_**, which one would think would be it, but no. The answer is the good-looking man reading the newspaper on the desk, completely ignoring the ruckus caused by the two snakes trying to brutally murder each other.

He was planning.

The Dark Lord's mind, renown as one of the brightest and most twisted minds in all of modern history, was plotting his next course of action.

Try as he might, he still jumped when the snakes crashed into the wall beside him and one of them twisted between his legs in an attempt to run from the other one. 

As _He _only laughed at his near death experience before returning to his newspaper, Lucius came to the decision to send Draco and Narcissa to France for the summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need an editor in order to keep myself centered  
(._.) ( l: ) ( .-. ) ( :l ) (._.)
> 
> What are your theories on what Dumbledore and Tom are planning? Keep in mind that these two are the most cynical and manipulative bitches in the book.
> 
> ...my grandad just died..........what the hell.........
> 
> Anyways, I was SHOOK when someone told me that Voldemort had sex with Bellatrix, What the ACTUAL fuck.


End file.
